


RED

by ayeah



Category: Hello! Project, Morning Musume.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6247246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayeah/pseuds/ayeah





	1. Chapter 1

The world pulsated before her eyes, her head vibrating, and her limbs feeling numb. Still the urge to flee overpowered her senses, her collapsing body set aside and her feet pushed forward. Her knees sometimes would betray her but she always stood up, no matter the pain and protest bit back between her lips.

A cry resounded from her mouth as she brought a metal bat on some head before her. There were a dull clang and a faint crack. The boy fell down in an instant.

 _He tried to kill me, he tried to..._ She brought down the bat’s tip again on the boy’s head. Again and again, she brought it down until it barely resembled a head but a gory, beaten pulp connected to a body. He had tried to stab her awhile ago. The blood was warm on her arms and hands and was wet across her dress. A metallic taste was in her mouth along unceasing sobs. Her nose ran with something wet, but not of blood. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. She had no choice. She didn’t have a choice.

 _Help_ , she cried, _help…_

Death reeked all around her. Like a gray film it had enveloped the world and no other color had remained as stark as red. It had never seemed as bright as that moment. 

She dragged her feet forward. She stumbled over a body and she didn’t dare to look at the grotesque condition it acquired. Only the Beretta 9mm caught her eyes and she quickly took it to her hands.

_Help…_

No one will help her. They will kill her.

The next soul came across her quickly met its unfateful death. She was a messy shooter, but she’ll get used to it in time.

So she lived.


	2. Chapter 2

She sat still, her legs apart and folded, the back of her hands resting in each. Her back was unbent, her chest lifting up and down, so slightly beneath the white fabric of her clothing. Her face was peaceful, her eyes closed, her lips pursed. Around her was a wall of white, without any corners that make it seem infinitely blank. It gradually blends to the color of the dark waters, where she was situated in the middle of. 

Beneath the folds of her eyes was darkness, painted by memories materializing in vague color and sense. She tried to remember, something that had been so real, until she woke-up that morning that it had all but faded. She tried to reach, to grasp its form, to retrieve the images and the sensations that came with it. She knew it was important, she knew it must hold something for her. 

_Red_.

“Ayumi.”

Her eyes opened, pools of molten gold.

A taller, slim girl of dark complexion came striding across the waters, wearing the same white attire as she was. Round ripples appear beneath the soles of her feet. She might appear walking above water, as Ayumi was sitting on it, but it was not real. Sooner the water had faded behind the steps of the taller girl, receding until it was nothing but a spotless, white room. This room conjures images of any that one may desire, illusions of any place that was all but lost from the world outside. More walls of the same purpose can be found around the _Facility_.

“We must break fast.” The tall girl had said.

She made no move to stand-up. “Haruna.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen images in my sleep.” 

Haruna peered at her, her eyes huge and round, and gold as hers. Her face was small, as was her nose, and her mouth was a pair of pink lips with its lower fuller and slightly jutting forward than the other. Her hair was long and black, flowing straight down to her chest.

“That’s silly.” The last word came in a little delay, like an afterthought. A small of smile. “Our cells repair themselves and our brains rest; the sleep is nothing but regeneration to prepare us for the next day. We remain unconscious throughout this process. Unless it was a timeless sleep.”

“It felt real. But I can’t remember.”

“Had you been to Health?”

“I must.” She answered.

“Then we shall eat first,” Haruna gave a lingering look before she turned away. Even though they have regular visits to the Health, to be suggested of it beyond those times was already a disquieting matter. 

The Facility was white and spacious, with subtle touches of gray where the faint shadows cast. The edges were rarely visible, if not non-existent, and huge panels covered a wide span of it from top to bottom. These panels were the same as the room they’ve been.

The floors were increasingly wider beneath the other and so on, like staircases opening to an open space that gives easy view to the ground floor at the very bottom and to the biggest panel that made the entire northern wall. 

Haruna and Ayumi walked upon the white, glossed hallways. This floor is dedicated for the 10th. Doors of metallic, silver finish row one after the other on the right which could lead to their rooms that will only open to its owner. There are also other rooms which served purpose for all of them, such as where she and Haruna had been.

On the other hand, a clear glass of waist-level bordered the edge on the left, giving an unobstructed view of the northern wall. It can serve as windows, giving a view of the entire city; while it can also display images of what the world could have looked, only it would be years ago and no longer true today. It also provided an almost natural daylight, that against the whiteness of the Facility it can be even brighter. Today it the northern wall shows bleak horizon over Tokyo, the Walls visible from afar like small fences of two inches. She wondered if this served as windows today. Tokyo had always been bleak, or maybe bleaker than what was displayed.

They proceeded to a tube-like capsule, its rounded walls also made of glass. Several of the same attire was already there and parted when they stepped in. Sometimes they bow, most of the times they keep their head low around them. After all, she and Haruna were part of the elite, the Chosen. 

The pair of metallic doors joined together and closed before them with a sigh, and the slight lurch in her stomach indicated that they were descending. The screen on the opposite side of the doors illuminated on its surface, and Ayumi turned to look at the images being projected. A group of four was fighting side by side, attacking to an unseen foe beyond the screen’s frame.

She may be part of the Chosen, but a higher order comes before them. They were far more battle-worn, fighting _Infected_ beyond the walls, and were celebrated heroes of Tokyo. The 9th.

“I heard they’re now on their way back from an operation,” Haruna noted behind her.

The clips were probably taken from the training, as the operations were highly-confidential matter. Just now, a shapely-woman of youth was firing riffle and a girl had landed from above with her sword slashing down swiftly; it glinted like it had the light of the sun itself on its edge. Her hair was long and black, her face small with a prominent jaw, her mouth a thin line, her eyes sharp and brightly gold. 

The other two of 10th were already at the canteen. The other one, who was next to her in age but was younger of three years, was a boy named Kudo Haru. He has a short-cropped hair, slim, and has a face that was similar to a girl’s. The youngest was Sato Masaki, who was merely forking the food around her plate, her face on her palm and adopted that of disinterested look. Her energy varied all the time.

She and Haruna took the unoccupied seats before them, tray of food at hand. The menu today was made of a mound of something gray or white topped with a brown sauce and sprinkled with powder of black color. Beside it was half a handful kernels of corn, with finger-length bean chopped in two. A separate soup of the same brown sauce was set in a tiny bowl. There was also a slice of bread and a glass of green liquid, presumably tea, mixed with other things that Ayumi didn’t care to know. Upon being a Chosen, they have undergone programmed trainings to tailor to the development of their strengths and skills, as well a designed diet to supplement their well-being. If it was potato or rice, or if they placed meat, it was beyond her, after all, the set of scientists under the Management had develop resourceful ways to produce food, not only for them Chosen, but also to conserve their resources for general population. That last reason alone was enough for her to forget the taste as it slid down her throat.

“I wonder when they’ll send us out beyond the walls,” Duu wondered aloud, chewing on the food she had just consumed. It was mushy. “We had only been scourging the inner perimeters of the wall. It’s impenetrable. There won’t be infected coming to us that way. Except for those very rare times when they came from the sewerage, and that’s even in the middle of the city.”

 _Once, or twice?_. It had not been too long since they became the Chosen, but their encounters with the infected had been rare and far in between. It was almost hard to recall when. There was only one infected each time. It was just one shot in the head to send them down, and that was all. 

But to complain was vile, to express discontentment was so. They were fortunate to be purified from the infection, and the least they can do was to observe good at all times to expel any form of evil that their surviving community might live longer still. Any form of ill-thoughts, no matter how small and slight, was still ill, and can easily affect others in undesired manner. _Just like the infection_.

“Train,” she quietly replied.

They ate in silence after that.

“You know what,” Masaki suddenly spoke, when all of them were finished and merely drinking the green liquid. Her food was still untouched. “The Game’s coming soon. Kill them all there so it will be the 10th they have to send out next time.”

She stared at Masaki, who now seemed had found reason to finish her food. The other two watched her. _So young._ She told herself. She stood and returned the tray diligently on the counter.

They trained as she suggested. 

The Health was at the right end of the 3rd level, its glass walls poking past the railings. It overlooked the common hall. The canteen was just right below it. 

Ayumi came to it. The glass door was a double set of glass that parted as you come in, and closed behind you as quickly as you’ve stepped in. It was the only place on the Facility that was not white, and was not illuminated, but was painted in real color – green. The floor was carpeted with the color of the night, and in each four corners stood rods of light. There was a long, oval shaped table at the farthest end, and behind that a woman sat. Her fair skin was pale against her dark, wavy hair, her eyes a pair of gold. A mole can be found beneath her lips.

But these were all but distinct images she recalled from the times she had been there. Ayumi remained standing outside. Today was not their schedule. She decided to move on.


	3. Chapter 3

Simultaneous shots rattled the air. Masaki threw away her uzi and pulled gloc semi-autos from her armpit gun slings, holding one for each hand. Her eyes remained unflinching, the muscles on her arms taut and visible. Before her were five cardboard targets, two were 20 meters away while the other three were 30 meters. 

She dropped to one-knee and in a deft manner emptied and reloaded both of her guns in 2.4 seconds. After a short pause of silence she resumed rattling away, pushing herself up, both guns extended straight in front of her. She took three steps forward and planted her feet firmly on both sides. She held the stance for a while and reloaded twice or thrice. At the very last bullet, she placed one firm step forward and spun, taking a huge swing as she fired. If you watched very closely, you would find that the bullet went in an arc, missing the target in front but hitting the empty hole of a target behind. It left a dull thud as it added to round marks that decorated the wall abundantly.

“Shoot!” She cried, grinning maniacally. 

By now, all the 5 targets’ head were all but empty holes and tattered mess. 

She may not be as good as Sayashi, but she couldn’t be far behind, Ayumi thought. It didn’t help that the younger kid improved day by day. Aside from being an adept gun-wielder, she had also been increasingly good with blades these days.

“It might seem she’s doing it effortlessly, but she’s working harder than you would’ve thought.” Haruka muttered with an amused smile. She was sitting next to her, twirling a pocket knife on her fingers.

“It seemed she’s enjoying it immensely.” If this had been a mission already...

“Now, now,” Haruna walked into the scene. “This is such a waste, on what targets shall I train?”

“You can always ask me for a duel, Harunan.” Masaki challenged.

“As much as I needed it, I wouldn’t go up against you so fast.” The taller girl sported a one-side smile, proceeding to the armory along the left wall.

It is known that Haruna was the least among them, not that it mattered. She would have told you herself. But it was something not boasted, after all, they are proud and strong above else. They were chosen. Haruna can be exceptionally good on some things.

“The game’s coming soon. Are you ready?” Kudo quietly asked.

How else would she be not ready? Ishida returned Kudo’s level gaze. Perhaps the other girl found the answer there because she continued without waiting for a verbal affirmation. Or perhaps not waiting at all.

“We could go up against the 9th, together. Us, 10th.”

“A plan.”

“We discussed about it.” By _we_ , Duu was referring to the 10th.

“But that’s not how the game supposed to work.”

“The game works in all ways imaginable.” Kudo replied plaintively. “There are no rules telling us that we can’t work together. We might even see the 9th working together.”

Well, that’s not far from possibility. She had never seen how seen how the game works. While Kudo had been here longer than   
she did. _The four of them and the four of us._

“Should be a fair game." Kudo finished.

A knife sunk to the wooden, narrow stick Ishida lifted just in time to shield herself with. An inch of its edge pressed lightly on her cheek like a needle. Had she been only a second late, it might have tore a bit more from her face even if she tried to tilt her head away. Well, Ishida’s keen and fast like that...

Duu looked surprised, though it only showed little on his face. Not that she’d miss the detail. The lanky girl firmly pulled the knife away from the stick, nodding, either in approval of the thrower’s accuracy or of Ayumi’s speed.

“Ahhh~” Masaki mused. “That was not entirely a miss, huh?”

“Sato, stop doing that.”

“Why?” Masaki had sauntered over by now. She leaned on Duu’s back, wrapping her arms on the other’s neck with one hand holding the top of the short-cropped hair. She glared at Ayumi. “Were you not pleased of my improvement?”

“You’re not supposed to kill anybody. Yet.” Haruna said as she took aim and fired the shotgun. It barely made mark on the already torn targets. She sighed.

“We’re a team, Sato, remember?” Duu inclined her head, supposing to look at the girl on her back. “We’re to work together.”  
Ishida watched Masaki who was still glaring at her, before switching her gaze back to Duu. 

“It could also be never fair.”

With that Ishida stood and proceeded to armory. She reached for a katakana, but then decided for a pistol. She’d better be prepared for any kind of situation.

 

Then there’s Oda Sakura that they kept forgetting about. 

Perhaps because of the rarity of the occasions the groups were able to chance a glimpse on one another, a one-man group would not be remarkable at all. She was also relatively new, so really, she can be easily overlooked and forgotten.

But maybe not until the game.

It was said she was taken from a compound that the infected had torched. The location was unknown to Sakura because like others, she had troubles of remembering anything beyond the time she woke at the facility. Due to severity of the fire, the files says, Oda Sakura, age 13, with height of 151 cm and weight of 143 kg, was the sole survivor.

So she lived, and was chosen.

She became the lone 11th. Truth was, she had been training in the facility for almost a year now. It had been at the very beginning that the management found where she’s particularly good at. Weapons. All sorts of it. Or more accurately, she knew the best (or perhaps creative?) way of using it.

After the initial trainings or “conditioning”, each generation had undergone near-reality simulations where a couple of hundred infected attack at once. These simulations primarily take hold of the brain’s sensory system that makes everything vividly and physically real. The smell, the sounds, the sensations, the pain. It had been used to assess the skills and capabilities of every chosen, sometimes done repeatedly if the results were vague. In other terms, if the performance of one generation did not satisfy the management. After all, they were now chosen; would the management let them fail at the very beginning?

Resources are provided beforehand, the Chosen only had to choose what to use. There was ample time before the attack, but only so little of it to actually prepare. You would think that the lone Sakura would take much longer time compared to four-man teams (while not underestimating her abilities), but the truth it, she finished it in one try and quickly.

Due to the confidentiality of the files, it was not revealed on what manner the 11th performed during the assessment. But one thing was clear – the management was very, very pleased. 

In fact, the management was still debating whether to include her in the game or not. Wide, live feeds of the generations’ activities illuminated before them. At the moment, it would look like that Sakura was merely doing nothing in the middle of the training ground compared to the other two screens. But because of the engaged discussion, they actually missed the brief moment Sakura created a strange sound.

She stood still on the middle of the room and strained to hear. It was very silent. There was nothing. It could have been her imagination. Sometimes she doubts her sanity. Who could blame her, being alone does that to you.

Maybe not until the game.

“Put her.” The finality of the voice promptly silenced the discussion, and the management nodded in consent.


End file.
